L'aura del Campo

From Dawn till Dust [163]

From Dawn till Dust

And Dawn lit the fields: green and breezy. And birds woke up and the foxes searched along the verge of the road where it cut through the forest until folks started milling about the town as the birds went silent and foxes went back home.

And the day grew long and shimmered in the heat as wheat slowly ripened into gold and all this while the red-wing blackbird scolded those who dared to walk too close to its nest in the cattails while the foxes slept curled up in cool dens.

And the evening beckoned and vesper bells rang and the sunset ... didn't come. And the day grew hotter and the foxes woke up and the birds were puzzled and stayed on their nests and the people looked to the baking skies for relief.

Till one preacher said, What hath God wrought! And the foxes trembled and the birds quivered and the people were frightened as the temperature rose and night didn't come and the stars remained hidden and the moon was nowhere to be seen.

As if Noon lit the fields: hot and silent, all life afraid of the glowing Sun and none noticed the wind that was rising until it darkened the skies with its golden red dust. Not by water would the world be cleansed again.

And the Sun didn't set for a month ... till those deep in their holes heard the thunder and came out to a darkened sky, as the dust turned to mud. And the foxes survived and the blackbird too but humanity was mostly done.

© Kåre Enga [177.163] (28.juli.2020)

A prose poem where line count doesn't really matter much while repetitions and rhythm (lots of xx/) does. About 260 words in 6 stanzas of the 'same' length, about 323 syllables: 55/54/53/55/53/53.

Prompt: Write a poem that you could feasibly label as being in the Horror genre.

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